


Unforgiveable

by Blackruby



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Depressed John, Friendship, Gen, Not S4 Compliant, Recovery, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Support, intrustive thoughts, mental health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:27:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25168447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackruby/pseuds/Blackruby
Summary: On a seemingly ordinary afternoon, John Watson leaves the clinic after a shift. An hour later the babysitter walks in with Rosie in her arms. John hasn't returned home and no one can get ahold of him. Where has he gone? Why? Is he alright or is something wrong?
Kudos: 17





	Unforgiveable

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warnings:  
> Depression. Suicide/Suicide attempt. Intrustive thoughts.

John was working a shift at the clinic, he said goodbye to his patient and checked his phone as soon as the door closed to see if he had any messages before he called in his next appointment. Rosie’s sitter had sent him a couple of pictures and a video of the toddler having a very serious discussion with her stuffed rabbit, making him smile. There was also a series of texts from Sherlock in a general stream of consciousness as if he had to announce every thought in his head as soon as it occurred.

:: Take it Lestrade didn’t have any cases for you? Have you tried the blog? J. ::

:: I’ll login and have a look now. – SH. ::

John put his phone back in his pocket and called in his next patient. A young woman named Delia who explained that she was having persistent unexplained nausea in the mornings, giving him a withering look when he’d asked if she could be pregnant.

“No, but you’re gonna make me pee in a cup anyway. Let’s get that over with first so then we can move on.” Delia took the small specimen jar and excused herself to the loo. John put a dipstick into the jar when she came back in, letting it react while she retook her seat by his desk.

“What do you know? You aren’t pregnant.” The pair of them shared a smile before John turned back to his computer. “I know it’s annoying to have to take tests that you feel are unnecessary but you wouldn’t believe the amount of people who state categorically that there’s no way they could be pregnant but it turns out they are.”

“I know. Though that’s not as bad as the way everyone jumps to conclusions when I say I’m feeling sick. I don’t want kids, but try saying that out loud as a woman and people look at you like you just said you want to bathe in a volcano.” Delia rubbed her forehead with the side of her hand in frustration and John gave her a sympathetic look.

“Well now we’ve got that one out the way, let’s get some blood tests ordered. It might be an idea to keep a food diary too and write down what you’ve had to eat and when. Score the nausea in the mornings out of five or ten to try and see if anything makes it worse than usual.” John printed out the blood forms, signing them with a typical doctor’s chicken scratch and handing them over to Delia.

“There you go, get those done at the blood clinic and call us up five days after for the results and we’ll go from there.” John gave her a warm smile, Delia thanked him and stood up from the chair and left the room. He got up and disposed of the urine sample properly and washed his hands. He was still on for another half an hour but he didn’t have anyone booked in so he decided to head to the breakroom. 

Sarah came in just as the kettle finished boiling and John held up a mug for her in a silent query. She nodded and John quickly fixed a tea for her as well as himself.

“Thanks…” Sarah blew on the drink before she took a small sip, glancing at the time. “Do you want to get off, John? It’s not likely there’ll be a walk-in at this time of day and you’ve not got long left.” Patients usually were more likely to drop in when the doors opened first thing, making mornings manic, Mondays especially after the surgery being closed on the weekends.

“Are you sure? I could help out with signing some scripts for quarter of an hour.” John was interrupted by his phone chiming. He pulled it out and saw it was a message from Sherlock.

:: One of the commenters on your blog has something that might be worth a look but it involves checking out old church records. Can you come along tonight? – SH ::

:: Can’t. Rosie’s sitter gets off at half five and I’ve got no one else to take her for me. J. ::

“Don’t worry about it, John, just get yourself out of here and enjoy the evening.” Sarah smiled at him fondly as he put his phone back in his pocket, knowing that her idea of an enjoyable night differed greatly from her colleague’s. “I’ve got you covering Thursday morning, are you still able to do it?” She knew that things came up unexpectedly with Sherlock so John tried not to commit to too many hours in advance to avoid letting her down.

“Yeah, no problem.” John answered distractedly as he tried to think if there was anyone who could watch Rosie for a few hours because going on a case with Sherlock would really hit the spot right now, he hadn’t been able to shake out the cobwebs of normality for what felt like ages. But Molly was working, Mrs Hudson was visiting her sister and he really had to stop giving his child to the neighbours at the drop of a hat. Things would be so much better if he didn’t have Rosie to thin- …

“John? John, are you ok?” Sarah asked in concern as he swayed for a moment, putting his mug down on the counter so heavily that some of the tea sloshed out over his hand. Sarah put down her own drink and attempted to put her hand on John’s arm but he flinched sharply away from her. His face was pale and sweaty as he stared at her with a look she could only describe as horror before he consciously put on something more neutral.

“I’m fine… fine. Yeah, great, grand.” John was rambling as he walked over to his locker in an almost dreamlike state. He grabbed his bag and coat, fumbling as he tried to close the door. “I’ll… I’ll see you Thursday then, yeah? Take care!” The forced fake cheer was so jarring that Sarah didn’t answer him, she crossed over to the window and watched as John walked stiffly off the grounds. The icy unease in her stomach made her feel a little ill, but she couldn’t force John to confide in her so she tried to push her vague worries aside.

It was 6pm when a woman came through the surgery doors carrying a little girl in her arms, Sarah glanced up from her paperwork when she heard the woman asking the receptionist for Dr Watson. She did a double take when she recognised the blonde child as Rosie.

“He left just before five.” Sarah approached the front desk, the unease from before coming back with a vengeance. “Have you tried calling him?”

“Yes, it keeps ringing out and he’s not answering my messages. Look, I was meant to go and get my own kids half an hour ago, I can’t keep looking after Rosie every time Dr Watson decides to run off chasing bad guys. I mean, he normally calls if that’s what’s happened but still…” The minder had a mixed look of annoyance and worry on her face, she was right, John usually called if there was an unexpected change of plans.

“Give Rosie to me and I’ll take her to Baker Street, hopefully her dad is there or Sherlock will know where he is.” Sarah offered as she took the toddler into her arms, Rosie was clutching her rabbit and she buried her face into Sarah’s neck, disgruntled at the change in her normal routine but not enough to start being fussy. The sitter handed over the bag with all of the girl’s things and rushed back out the door. The brief silence was broken by the receptionist putting the phone back on the cradle.

“She’s right, his phone just keeps on ringing out. Where the hell has he gone?”

~~~

Sarah glanced up at the front window of 221b Baker Street as soon as she got out of the cab, Sherlock Holmes was looking down at her. There was a twitch of surprise on his face before he turned away, Sarah heard him coming down the stairs so she didn’t bother to knock, adjusting the grip she had on Rosie instead.

“Sarah? What are you doing here? Where’s John?” Sherlock asked as he opened the door, his questions making her shoulders drop and her stomach clench in an even tighter knot.

“I was hoping you’d know. He left the surgery after work but the babysitter turned up an hour later with Rosie saying that he hadn’t come home and that he wasn’t answering his phone.” Sarah watched as Sherlock’s ever-bright eyes flittered all over her and the toddler, taking everything in.

“That’s not all. Something else happened that made you even more concerned.” Sherlock stated as he stood aside to let the pair of them in. Sarah nodded and crossed the threshold. As they ascended the stairs, she filled the detective in about what happened just before John left the clinic.

“It wasn’t until I went out to come here that I even realised John had left his bike behind too. I know you like evidence rather than gut feelings and such… but there was something in his eyes, something had really shocked and thrown him.” Sarah followed him into the kitchen, watching as Sherlock pulled out his phone and tried to call John but it rung out.

“No, you’re right. This isn’t like him in the slightest. John only goes off like this when he’s upset about something. Are you sure you’ve told me absolutely everything?” Sherlock asked her, Sarah scanned her memories before she nodded. Rosie started to grumble and squirm. Sherlock opened his fridge and pulled out a jar of baby food.

“Here, she usually eats before now. There’s also a cot upstairs in John’s old room for when she stays here. I’m going to go out and try to find John. Can you stay with her? If not, I’ll need to get someone else.” Sherlock could ask his brother to send someone to look after Rosie if Sarah needed to get away, he’d be asking him to help locate John anyway so one more favour didn’t matter.

“No, I’m ok. There’s nothing that I can’t postpone. You go and find him and keep me posted, do you have my number?” Sarah spotted a pen and a pad on the table, she picked it up and scribbled her phone number on it. Sarah ripped the sheet from the pad and handed it to Sherlock. He took it with a nod, he paused to run a gentle hand over Rosie’s head and through her hair.

“Now, Watson, you be a good girl for Sarah and I’ll go find your father, ok?” Sherlock was rewarded with a silent nod; he gave her a smile before he shifted his gaze back to Sarah. “I’ll keep you up to date, get John to call me if he turns up here.” Sarah nodded her assent and Sherlock turned around, heading down the stairs and grabbing his coat. He pulled out his phone and sent two texts, one to Mycroft and the other to Lestrade.

:: John’s gone AWOL after work. He left the surgery on foot at just before 5pm. Can you track his current whereabouts? – SH ::

:: Have you heard from John since 5pm? He didn’t go home after work and isn’t answering his phone. Sarah just turned up at Baker St with Rosie in tow after the minder came to the clinic looking for him. - SH ::

Sherlock checked the last message he’d received from John where he’d said he couldn’t get away to help him with the new case. Sarah had mentioned that John had his phone in his hand when he went pale and started acting strangely. Sherlock couldn’t see anything obvious in the texts to cause that reaction, so in the absence of something external, whatever had upset John had had to have been internal. He waved down a cab and climbed in, initially indicating to head to the surgery. His phone went off twice in quick succession. 

:: No, not heard from him. Should we be worried? Do you want me to put something out to the beat to keep an eye out for him? – L ::

:: JW walked east from the clinic for twenty minutes, he appeared unaware of his surroundings until that point. He darted into an alley off Lodge Road where he spent quarter of an hour in an agitated state, striking the brickwork repeatedly with both fists. He walked north for another thirty minutes, again lost in thought. CCTV coverage failed around the canal, lost sight of JW at 18:07 and we’ve been unable to pick him up since. Will keep looking. - MH ::

Along with Mycroft’s message there was a number of stills from the cameras. Sherlock felt his heart beginning to race as he looked through the ones in the alley, John looked in utter anguish. He punched the walls until his knuckles were bleeding before managing to pull himself back together enough to continue his march. 

Sherlock used his mental map of London to calculate the rough search area considering John’s last known position and his faster walking speed whenever he was trying to outpace his own thoughts. He tapped on the plexiglass divider and directed the driver to the street closest to the canal, there were quite a few nooks and crannies that John could be taking shelter in to hide from prying eyes. The doctor’s pride wouldn’t allow anyone to witness his mental breakdown.

Things couldn’t be clearer for Sherlock; John was experiencing his version of a Danger Night. The detective hadn’t seen him this close to the edge since Mary’s death. He could only hope he found his friend before it was too late. Sherlock’s mind automatically scoured his recent interactions with John, trying to see if he’d missed any signs of continued suicidal thoughts before shaking them away. He’d worry about what set this off once he had John back, safe and sound.

Sherlock tossed too much money at the cab driver as he darted out of the taxi. He wasn’t far from where John had last been seen so he set to work trying to track down his friend. Luckily it wasn’t too hard to spot signs that John had passed this way. Sherlock kept his eyes and ears peeled as he walked slowly and deliberately. He was passing a small bridge over the water when the sound of something falling against the cobblestones caught his attention. He picked up the pace to check it out, spotting a familiar figure huddled against the wall.

“John! John, I’ve been looki-” Sherlock’s words died in his throat as he came closer. John was lying on the ground next to his open doctor’s bag, there were empty bottles of pills and blister packs all around him. There were even some pills still in his hand that he hadn’t been able to swallow in time before he’d completely lost consciousness.

“Oh, good God, John! What the hell have you done?” Sherlock threw himself to his knees and phoned for an ambulance, his eyes darting around as he tried to calculate what John had taken and how much. It looked like it was mostly opiates and sedatives so the dispatcher told him to watch John’s breathing closely until the paramedics arrive.

“You are _not_ allowed to die, John Watson, and especially not by your own hand, I _forbid_ it.” Sherlock’s voice was wobbling as he rolled the doctor into the recovery position. He tried not to panic as he saw John’s breathing becoming shallower and more laboured. Sherlock was about to start giving rescue breaths when he finally heard the ambulance arrive.

~~~

Sherlock checked his watch for what felt like the thousandth time, John should be coming around sometime soon. He’d had an emergency stomach pump to remove any unabsorbed tablets and been given naloxone to counteract the effect of any opiates already in his system. The doctors were pretty sure they’d caught John in time before any permanent physical damage had been done, but they’d need to do some more tests.

Sherlock had had the unenviable task of letting everyone know that John was in hospital, he hadn’t planned on saying more than that but Lestrade and Sarah managed to guess about the suicide attempt. Though Mycroft seemed to know already, of course, he probably knew the details as soon as John was in the ambulance. The paramedics had arrived just in time for John to go into respiratory arrest, they’d intubated him on route until they needed to pass another tube into his stomach for the gastric suction procedure.

Molly had immediately offered to have Rosie overnight if needed and Sherlock had taken her up on that, sending her to Baker Street to relieve Sarah so she could get back to her flat. Rosie was more used to staying with Molly at any rate. Sherlock’s phone buzzed with another message.

:: Please tell me that John isn’t so fucking selfish as to try and orphan this gorgeous little girl sleeping in my lap? ::

It seemed Molly hadn’t realised that John’s admittance was self-inflicted until she’d spoken to Sarah. She seldom swore, she had a definite temper but it usually took a lot to make her lose her cool. This situation was definitely one of those rare times.

:: He had a very serious attempt at it, he swallowed pretty much every drug he was carrying in his bag. I don’t know why; he’s not woken back up yet. I know you’re angry, I am too, but I don’t think we can shout John into feeling better or he’d have done it to himself by now. – SH ::

Sherlock glanced up at the rustle of blankets as John shifted restlessly, it wouldn’t be long now before he came around fully. Sherlock took a moment to try and restrain his emotions, he was a strange mixture of furious, terrified and upset and he couldn’t shift the mental snapshot of John lying on the ground with the evidence of how hard he’d tried to cease existing all around him.

Sherlock watched as John slowly came back to consciousness, he opened his eyes blearily with a frown of confusion initially before he remembered what had happened and what he’d tried to do. John slowly raised his bandaged hands up to his face, covering it completely as his body was wracked with uncontrollable tremors.

“John.” Sherlock’s voice startled his friend and made him jump. John dropped his hands back into his lap. The pair of them just stared at each other for some moments before John opened his mouth to make an attempt to speak, but he grimaced at the sharp pain in his throat. “You had to be intubated and then your stomach was pumped, that’s why your throat hurts.”

“Right…” John’s voice was barely above a whisper as he picked up a cup of water from his bedside table, he had to hold it with both hands as he sipped so as to prevent it from spilling due to his shaking. “Did they give me Narcan? I have a splitting headache.”

“Yes, they did.” Sherlock answered quietly as he stood up from his chair and crossed the room to stand beside the bed, looking down at John. “You’d only just lost consciousness when I found you. Do you want to tell me how you go from offering to sign prescriptions one hour to swallowing an entire pharmacy the next?” He was careful to keep his anger out of his voice, it wouldn’t help matters right now.

John’s eyes teared up and he shook his head, lowering his face to stare at his hands clenched in his lap. Sherlock sighed quietly, he turned to bring the chair he’d been sitting in before closer to the side of the bed. He sat down in it and reached out to take one of John’s hands to comfort him, he was shocked when the doctor flinched away from his touch. Sherlock withdrew his arm and studied John for a moment.

“Whatever thought that crossed your mind just before you left work surely wasn’t reprehensible enough to demand you immediately end your life in penance?” Sherlock spotted John glance up at him in surprise. Explaining his deductions seemed to be a good way to break the ice so he continued. “According to Sarah, nothing happened at work. You were drinking tea, talking and texting when suddenly you started acting strangely. I checked your phone and the only messages around that time were those between ourselves. So, no one said or did anything to upset you directly.”

“Therefore, it is obviously something that you thought about in that moment. It shocked you so much that it was immediately visible to Sarah and you felt the need to go on one of your marches to try and think things through.” Sherlock steepled his fingers together as he watched John for any tells that would confirm his reasoning. “You won’t let me take your hand, you only flinch from physical touch like that when you are punishing yourself. That plus the fact you made an extremely determined attempt at suicide tells me that whatever crossed your mind, you feel it is utterly unforgiveable.”

“Taking the evidence of what was happening at the time. I can only conclude that it was a thought about Rosie…” Sherlock watched as John tensed up with a barely supressed sob, that reaction gave the detective enough to state his conclusion with some confidence. “You wanted to come with me on the case and thought something along the lines of wishing you didn’t have to worry about her or work around her, right?” John nodded, still refusing to meet his friend’s eyes, his cheeks blazing red in shame.

“I’m sure if she was old enough to understand, she’d rather you were occasionally frustrated by the restraints of parenthood than dead and absent from her life entirely.” There was a trace of fury and condescension that had slipped into Sherlock’s tone, he obviously felt that John had blown things out of all proportion. “For God’s sake, John! You are a good father, a very good on-”

“I’m a fucking _fraud_ is what I am, Sherlock.” John interrupted him, finally looking up. His eyes were red rimmed and still brimming with tears. “What kind of father thinks that his life would be better without his child to worry about? I’m constantly leaving her in the care of other people so I can run off and act like I did before she was born, I treat her like a burden to be managed, not a child to be cherished.” He made a noise of disgust with himself as he wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“You already know Mary’s pregnancy was unplanned. What you might not know is that when we’d discussed kids, we’d both said that wasn’t what we wanted from the relationship. Neither of us wanted the responsibility. Looking back, we’d probably both seen too much of the ugly side of life to justify bringing an innocent into this world willingly.” John picked up his cup again and took a long drink to ease his throbbing throat.

“I love her so much it hurts right through to my bones… but I _hate_ being a parent. I feel like I’m being slowly strangled to death. This…” John made a vague gesture towards himself. “…wasn’t a reaction to just one horrible thought, Sherlock. You don’t go from zero to suicide like that. I had been better after Mary’s death but it’s still been there, in the back of my mind, eating me up inside. It’s just constant, all these black thoughts, reminding me of how much I’m failing at everything I’m trying to do!”

“You should have said something to me before it got to this stage!” Sherlock’s anger was beginning to get the better of him, despite his best efforts. “You say you love Rosie but then you try to abandon her to the whims of the world by attempting to take your own life? She needs you! When you strip all the rest away, that’s what is important.”

“Sherlock, I spend half my time chasing after people who would kill me in a heartbeat, given a clear shot and half a chance. If that happened then Rosie would also be abandoned to the ‘whims of the world’ to use your words. If you aren’t going to get angry at me for doing that repeatedly, which you aren’t, then you shouldn’t get angry with me for this. Both actions are reckless and not what a good father should be doing.” John answered as he pinched the bridge of his nose, his headache pounding away behind his already sore eyes.

“The difference between those scenarios is that in the former, you aren’t trying to get yourself killed whereas that’s the whole aim of the latter.” Sherlock’s rage had receded, thankfully, replaced with a much more even tone. “You’re a single father, a widower, without family or a wide support network to share some of the burden of parenthood. When added to the fact you are most likely still suffering with bereavement and depression then it’s no wonder you’ve felt so desperate.”

“I’ve been seeing my therapist but it doesn’t help, she keeps suggesting anti-depressants but I see so many people trapped on those drugs. They take them, they feel better, they come off of them but the depression returns so they have to go back on them in a never-ending cycle.” John admitted, his tears had finally stopped, leaving his face blotchy with dried salt.

“I understand your point, but it might be helpful in the short term while we try to sort out arrangements to help share the work of raising Rosie so you don’t feel so isolated and trapped. A two-pronged strategy of addressing the causes and the chemical imbalance is more likely to work than treating one or the other in isolation.” Sherlock had turned his great mind to improving things for John, unwilling to allow his friend to make another attempt on his life if there was anything he could do to avert it.

“I’ll speak to the mental health worker they’ll no doubt send to talk to me before they’ll discharge me.” John agreed with a tired sigh as he flopped back on to his bed.

~~~

Sherlock looked up at hearing the door open and close before John’s footsteps sounded on the stairs. It had been three and a half weeks since his suicide attempt. John had been assessed by the mental health team and they referred him to a cognitive behavioural therapist to try and address the ingrained negative intrusive thoughts that whirled around his head at times. John had agreed to give it a try as it wasn’t considered necessary for him to start on antidepressants alongside it.

“Hey!” John greeted him as he came into the kitchen, heading straight for the kettle. Sherlock nodded at him and moved his microscope and some other clutter to the side to make room for John to place the tea and sit down with him.

“How’d it go today?” Sherlock asked as he picked up his mug, John was attending CBT appointments twice a week at the moment because he was assessed as being at a high risk of suicide or self-harm. It had also been arranged that Rosie spent Saturdays with Molly to give John a whole day to himself.

“Alright, Arran thinks I need to work on the amount of guilt I’m carrying around before these new coping techniques he’s been teaching me can really start helping me. He listed what he’d picked up from the discussions during our appointments, it was… sobering to hear it said aloud from someone else’s mouth.” John twisted his cup in his hands, staring into the tea.

“He said: There’s guilt because I didn’t stick up for Harry when she came out to our parents. Guilt that I survived Afghanistan when so many other good men didn’t. Guilt for wishing that I _had_ died when I got back to London before I met you. Guilt after you jumped. Guilt when Mary shot you. Guilt when Mary died and finally guilt towards Rosie because I didn’t want to be a father and I don’t believe I’m good enough for her.” It was almost like every repetition of the word ‘guilt’ physically weighed down on John’s shoulders as he spoke. Sherlock reached over and covered one of John’s hands with his own and squeezed it.

“Well this is a start, not shrugging off support because you feel you don’t deserve it.” Sherlock commented with a small smile as John returned the squeeze. “Did Arran give you any idea as to how you can let go of all that misplaced guilt?” John nodded and sipped at his tea for a moment.

“We’re going to go through each of the events, one by one, look at why I feel guilty about it and addressing each reason. The idea being that once a negative thought has been successfully challenged then it loses the power it has over you.” John looked up and met Sherlock’s eyes for a moment. “You’d love CBT, it’s very logical and rational. You’d be good at it.”

“Hmm, I’d imagine that a practitioner would need a certain amount of emotional intelligence that I don’t have. Knowing when to push someone and when to back off has always been a weakness of mine.” Sherlock let go of John’s hand, his gaze passing over his friend’s face. “You’re looking a little better, less tired and there’s more colour in your cheeks.” John nodded his agreement as he rubbed his shoulder and stretched it out.

“I’d spent months and months struggling with the way I was feeling, so just being able to talk about it without being made to feel like some sort of monster was a huge relief. Arran was able to point me towards some articles written by parents addressing the same issues which helped a lot too. I don’t know how but being able to express all that out loud has made it easier to actually enjoy the time I spend with Rosie, I suppose because I’m not in such internal turmoil, I guess.” John had a relaxed little smile on his face.

“Anyway, enough of all that. Do you have any cases or things you’re working on that I can help out with?” John roused himself from his reflections and looked at Sherlock with a familiar glint of excitement in his eyes. He wasn’t completely out of the woods, and no doubt, there’d be some setbacks along the way, but he was going in the right direction. Sherlock was determined that John wouldn’t have to walk the path alone.

FIN


End file.
